For my beloved. My one and only. And a love as infinite as the universe.

A year ago
I thought all love ever did
was fold us into smaller pieces
until we are not there anymore.
I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I have held the hands of.
I have a body full of scars,
we both know loss
more than the sound of our own voices.
Our love came,
when we had both given up on love.
And all your love ever did to me,
was make me grow, and grow,
until I could reach the sky.
Until I was the sky.
I fell for you,
when I was shaking.
Anxiety was eating my insides.
Ten months later,
And I wake up, not scared anymore.
I wake up, ready to fight.
You are every color of God's painting,
the root of the root of the creation of this world,
the madness of science that I adore,
the metaphors of poetry,
the reason of all reasons of physics,
the music in my head,
the rhythm that I know by heart.
And I,
I know it's hard sometimes,
to show me the cracks
of your perfection.
I know it's hard 
for you to give me your soul,
completely naked.
But please know that I,
am not afraid to love you.
I am not afraid to hold you and call you my own.
I am not afraid of your scars.
I am not afraid of your bad days.
I, my dear one, love you, as you are.
Whether it's the days you are a blazing mid-summer sun,
shining so brightly,
dancing with the breeze 
and laughing like pain does not exist.
Whether it's the days you are a hurricane,
quietly aching, and then breaking
everything in your way.
Or even the days you are 
breaking down
into my lap
not knowing the answer to any question.
You are still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Because nothing,
not even my anxiety
not even my bad days
not even your worst nights
will ever change my love for you.
And even this, is not half of what
my heart holds for you
because I love you 
more than my heart can ever hold.

A dedication.

This is for all the times my body was bruised and knocked down, and not even the sound of thunder could move an inch of me. 
This is for all the times I failed to see the light when it was clearly daytime outside. And all the times it didn't matter if there was any pulse left in me.
It was scary. It was scary to look at the size of my body, and see how small I am; how no part of the world could fit me perfectly like a sweater.
It was scary, trying to create distances out of every breath I took because there was never enough air to keep me here, and my insides were always crowded.
I am no saint. I made poetry out of blood and romance out of smoke and jokes out of delicacy. 
I am a killer in disguise. For myself I have murdered, a hundred times over.
And I, like any other sinner, always had my reasons.
But no apology is ever sincere when actions are striven to be justified.  
And then one day, at what seemed like the break of dawn, I stopped swallowing the words I threw like knives at my being.
One day, I threw them all up.
See, before what I thought was my last breath, I fought. I fought like the devil.
I am no saint. I make peace with my ugliness now. I wear it like my favorite sweater, and it fits me perfectly. 
I am no saint. I no longer cringe at the cracking of my own voice. I learn to love it.
I am no saint. I look my fear in the eye, like a good ol' warrior. 
I am a sinner. I put my pieces back with glue, and never look back.
I am a sinner. I chase death until it's worn out.
I am a sinner, with no shame. Because I now love myself unconditionally, with just enough strength to drink all my past sins in, and carry on.
Because who said I was made to be anything less than the universe anyway? 

There is this scene that keeps flashing back and forth in my head. You are not in it. In fact, you're not there at all. Yet, somehow, you're the reason for it.
And I keep wondering how and why and in what world of whose god is it normal that you are a part of everything that you are not made of. I keep wondering how you fit perfectly into each and every picture, and how each and every perfect picture is always missing something, like some essential color, if you're not there.
This is how the scene goes:
The sky is just right there, the clearest shade of Blue. The sun's not blinding nor is it burning, but there's just enough light to warm up my heart. And the wind does not leave a human skin untouched.
There you exist, in the simplest act of God. There you exist, my darling. In each and every place I look.
You are not a metaphor. You do not stand for something else. You are something else.
You are the silence that I long for when everything is loud and unclear.
Dearest, I know. I know life can be strange and overwhelming. And sometimes our days can be on repeat. I know how it frustrates you.
But there is so much more to you than what you, I, and the rest of the world get to see.
There is much more to you than what you know.
So remember that there is always light, but only if you don't keep your eyes in the dark for long.
And remember the warm summer days of the smoke and sweat and our laughs echoing through all the corners of each part of this city.
Remember the cold winter days when I kissed you with a burning passion in my heart to never let you go.
Remember each time we hugged when it started to rain, and how we never mind getting wet, because there's always a better thing to do than regret.
Some days, I will not be there. If that ever happens, call my name. I will hear you. No distance can ever part us, no wind can ever carry you away from me, no love can ever be greater than ours.
On the days where you think that you are such a mess, I will wipe you clean.
On the days where you are ashamed of who you are, I will remind you why you shouldn't be. I will always show you what you can't see. I will always trust you to be okay on your own, and will not mind it if you are your own person.
On the days where you're as happy as a kid, I will look at you with the warmest smile on my face.
To sum it all up. I will always be your loving best friend. And will always be your lover.
In my absence, I will still hold you with invisible arms, and a love twice as big as the universe is.

A crack in the ground

A hole in a wall

One big thing

That's ever so small.

You can have me,

And grab me by the

Hand

Or taste a burning fire

On my lids

And bury me

Deep in the sand.

Gods from above,

Angels on earth

Demons in love

A chaos rebirth

Will you be

My mortals in disguise?

For I can hear

The wind

And sea

And birds

And trees

Tangle beneath me.

I cannot reach them

It's a whirling breeze

But I am growing

So let me be.

So this is

how the story goes:

Once upon a sunrise

A girl your age

runs, 

and runs,

yet her feet

are never tired.

"Sit down,"

we say

"get some rest."

But she can never

slow down.

So the days go by,

and we are met

eye to eye

on every clock

and just like 

the wind

she flees.

And sunrise

after another

we beg her 

to stop

but then we 

know

it's best to look away.

We grow old,

and so does she.

I think I heard 

them call her name.

"Time,"

I shout.

"linger still."

But she looks away,

she looks away.

And off she goes.

Forgive me Self for I have sinned.

I wonder what would happen if we could just pretend that unoccupied spaces are filled once you forget that they are unoccupied because of the absence of someone else's occupancy. In other words, if you are certain that one person's wholeness does not kill another's, then why won't you stop acknowledging the void? 

I watch you breathe. You sit there by the window every night and wait for it to rain when it's 40 degrees outside, because that's how you always were: always waiting for a miracle to happen. Almost everything you've wished for is make-believe. You've got skinny hands, and your eyes are see-through. Mirrors do not astound you, not since fifth grade anyway, when the rooms always echoed with your laughter and the murmurs of people around you, always blessed at the sight of you. You've kept your lovers waiting, and all their hearts ever did were shrink, for you were never able to give. A morning spent alone is a morning not wasted, then explain to me why you're constantly seeking shelter in the arms of everyone.
"Be a good person," you say. "take your medication. The noise in your head will not die, but sooner or later, your thoughts will be out of focus."
I swear I've done it a hundred times. I've bathed in their "coping strategies", but I've never believed there was anything to cope to. So the days go by, and I watch the sun rise, and my skin is warm with a scintilla of faith.
I remember what it feels like, to shiver, to sweat, to snap at the sky and know in my bones that it's useless. I remember the vomit, the screaming, the anger, and the drowsiness. I remember being laughed at in a room with no one but me.
And here I am, a flash of a memory, bursting with remorse, and light goes through me.
I can still hear my name being called, and my heart still keeps pounding when I'm surrounded by people. I am still afraid, reaching out, looking at en empty sky. I still lose my head, and life seems almost impossible at times, but I am tired of sitting by the window every night, waiting. And heck, I think I'll go make it rain, because I don't believe in miracles anymore, I make them.

If everything is quiet and still, then why am I dazed by how fast the earth is spinning?

Brush your lips against her skin. Sweat, breath and minute after minute you find her weeping. What's wrong, honey? What went wrong? Was it the way you held her or didn't you hold her tight enough? 

You see her through the smoke. One step closer to her and Death will laugh at you. Damn, not this time. 

She Paints you a picture of a rose and you just smile and think it's nice. How nice, you never know.  

Sleeves pulled up, hair pulled back. Wash out the memory and wash it away. This can hurt for only so long. I, who walked straight into the storm, remember pieces of me being taken away at noon, and spoiler alert: I survive.

It's alright, ma.

The pills will be out of my system later

But you won't

You won't.

I wish I loved myself enough

To not die for you

But it's alright, ma.

I'll rise again, some other time.

I'll live.

It's alright, ma.

The blood and the vomit

I can wash them all away.

I will rinse myself in sunshine

I will bathe in all the things you never told me about

I am not entirely sober

But it's always alright, ma.

You've raised me

And I am quickly falling apart.

But don't you think I will stay in pieces.

I hold myself together

Better than any person can.

I paint my own skies

I paint my own body

I become colors that don't fade

I burst with life

Even after I've lost parts of me.

I am still here. Complete. Content. Completely content.

.And I'll live

20 things you need to know by the age of 20

This is for the person that has always guided me towards the light, and walked with me through the dark

1. You're not alone. There's always someone, somewhere, somehow, listening; watching over you. 
2. You will never find love. But love will find you. And when it does, it's going to linger under your skin. Make sure to know who to let in and who to hold the door open for.
3. You will change a lot. And I don't mean that you'll wake up one day and decide to shave your head and call it a change. I mean you'll wake up one day and decide to walk away from something you thought you'd never leave behind because it just doesn't suit you anymore. When that happens, don't let it ruin you. You're not a bad person for taking bad decisions. 
4. Don't be afraid. Your worst fears will find a way to crawl under your skin and to your head but in the midst of it all, you will find a voice inside of you that tells you to hold on and hold still. Make sure to find that voice.
5. Don't be oblivious to the beautiful things that surround you. Everything starting from that abandoned corner of the street to the breeze that hits your face the first thing in the morning is beautiful and unprecedented.
6. Fight. Fight sickness and fight loss. So many things are worth fighting for. Do not let your pride kill all the softness you have within you for the people that you love. 
7. You are not a waste of space. 
8. Mind over matter. Always.
9. You will get over her and you will learn how to live without people who can live without you and you will stop being fond of people who are not fond of you. You will also learn how to do that with no amount of hatred included.
10. Let yourself be, but don't stop yourself from being. 
11. Let yourself die, but don't stop yourself from breathing. 
12. Stop being your worst enemy. Look at the bigger picture. You are so much more than what you think you are. Stop shrinking yourself.
13. You will survive.
14. It's beautiful to believe in something you don't see. For some it's a god, for others it's a reason to hold on. Make sure you have that.
15. Thank yourself for the things you've been doing all your life. Thank yourself for this; for breathing. Thank yourself for not falling apart.
16. It's sometimes better to only get by than to stay trapped but that in no way means that you should settle for what you don't deserve.
17. Stand up, speak up, and put up a damn fight for all the things you believe in. You have a voice, so use it.
18. Read, read, read. The madness of magic exists between the pages of a book. Books will always teach you something.
19. You are you, and it's enough.
20. You are loved. You are cherished. You are evergreen. 

A letter to my present self.

You have a stack of books piled up on your bedside; Ink and words and meaning. Yet you're on your own. You're everything you never wanted to be and I'm sorry. I keep thinking it's somehow my fault. Maybe if I had loved you a little, forgiven you a little, glorified you a little, and protected you a lot, none of this would've happened. You close your blinds and look away, pretending that the world outside doesn't scare you a bit. So you get up and walk tall, and slip on another lie. I'm okay or am I? 
Rise, do rise. The sky will always allure but gravity will always pull you back to its embrace and keep you from flying. And may I say that your hair is less deranged now yet still smells like chaos from a distance?
Dance, do dance. You know the song of loss and life by heart, don't you? You know the words and oh how they slip away from your tongue with every stranger your soul entirely grasps. 
If I had met you in a dream I wouldn't dare wake up. You're ripe and life ascends within you. You're raw and your eyes are the farthest thing from a shelter.
Please understand that I am still not out of reasons to love you; that you're not easy to give up on. It's just that life makes us weary and we still have got so much to learn, but my god are we running out of time, and my god are we running out of love, and my fucking god are we too unholy to abstain. 

I know this girl, English heart and golden ribs. She reminds me of all the things I have got no name for. I can't stop looking at her. She speaks not when you expect her to. She speaks not to break the silence. If anything, silence is the closest I've ever got to knowing her. She speaks in a language you wouldn't understand, but would remember very clearly when you take a few steps away from her shadow. I can feel her presence even if we're almost too apart for our eyes to meet and here's what I once told them: if the curtains were drawn, you will know one way or another that her body's standing still behind. And when they asked how, I told them that she's quiet, but her heart isn't. They thought I'm mental but they don't know the first thing about me knowing the first thing about her. She's terrified of life, yet has all four elements that keep us from dying. She's killing me and I'm only halfway through her head. She's killing me, and I can't stop looking at her.

A poem my parents could have written if only they knew how to

this night,
this never ending fight
this flickering light 
inside the heart
that could have
but never did
ignite.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry but not quite yet.
Skin on bones and
together forever, forever together
what a shame 
and who's to blame?
silent.
leave me, break me, tear me
but not quite yet.

I will have my eyes closed when the sun sets and you will hear the humming of my dying heartbeat when too many dawns had broke.
Laugh, laugh, laugh as you sigh for what you lack and drink it up in a bottle of  him because I know that he takes your pain away.
I know your heart is made of wholeness and a whole lot of emptiness and it's almost never enough to keep you breathing.
Dye your hair in all shades of mortality with all sorts of I-want-to-live and other lies you repeat to yourself.
You blossom the other way round and not even the bloodiest of minds nor the cleverest of hearts would understand you.
You will not understand. The world does not stop spinning and it's a fucking daze.
And restless are the starts that watch upon me as I speak nonsense and wait for it to rain,
But fuck,
I don't even like the rain anymore.